Sunny,

I've been going through your cookbooks, flipping through the pages to make sure there isn't any loose paper or anything else in them.  Most are going to be donated although I am going to try to keep a few.

I've already set aside the '365 Easy Microwave Recipes' cookbook and something like Simple Recipes for Slow Cookers (I hope they mean the device and not the individual).  I certainly hope the titles of these recipe books are accurate.

For some reason, I've noticed that it takes me longer to flip through the pages of cookbooks having pictures or photos of the recipe than those that do not.  Must have something to do with the weight of the paper in those particular books.

A bit of irony, as I was going through your stack of vegetarian cookbooks, I came across the BBQ Bible.  Sadly, this 500+ page behemoth of a cookbook did not have any pictures or photos.  What a letdown.  I flipped through its pages rather quickly.  I just thought it odd that the BBQ Bible cookbook was amongst your stack of vegetarian cookbooks.

I've started wondering how many meals would have been cooked if every recipe in every one of your cookbooks could have been prepared.  I can only imagine lunches and dinners for many decades, and that's probably a very conservative estimate.

I've still only touched a small part of your cookbook collection and still haven't found the ones you had in college.  Eventually, I will find those particular cookbooks.  I'm sure I will take my time flipping through the pages of those books.

I still miss you my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I don't recall us ever being in a parade together.  If you were still here, you could answer this question without hesitation.  Being in grief, my memory hasn't been the best as of late.

Since your death, I've been attending various bereavement groups.  I find comfort mourning with others who are also on similar grief journeys.  I've been attending presentations provided by the Widowed Person Services (WPS) group for over a year now.

They participate in the annual Fourth of July Parade in Burleson.  I decided that I would join them on the parade this year.  Of course, I arrived very early and tried unsuccessfully to catch some sleep in my car for approximately 30 minutes.  I then made my way to the staging area where I met up with R and met her son J.  We waited awhile for the others to join the group, and then decorated the float and vehicles that were driving in the parade.  Overall, there were about 20 of us representing WPS in the parade this year.

I did get to meet a few submarine veterans who also have a float in the parade.  I'm thinking of attending some of their meetings and possibly joining their group.

Thankfully, the weather was bearable during the parade.  It was a little warm, but comfortable in the shade with a light breeze blowing past.

One of the widows brought a couple of bubble guns to shoot bubbles from the float.  The kids loved it.  In fact, for the kids, that seemed to be the highlight for them when our float was passing by.  They would shout out, "Bubbles!"  They would then try to catch them.

I know I had tear stained eyes as I waved to the crowds, waving a small flag in my other hand, forcing a smile, and wishing various folks a Happy Fourth.  Most of them didn't know how to react, once they realized that we were widowed persons.  They simply waved back, wished us a Happy Fourth, but kept a confused or saddened look on their faces.

I wasn't used to waving so much.  I found myself switching hands frequently, moreso towards the end of the route.  Holding the small flag in one hand and waving with the other.

There was not much to the ending of the parade.  Once the float was pulled into the staging area, we quickly took down the decorations and parted our separate ways.  Until we meet again.

Still going through your cookbooks, still trying to clean the house, still having grief moments, still missing you, still wondering where this grief journey is taking me, still trying to figure out how to handle newly forming delicate friendships, still trying to learn who I now am, still seeking God's will for my life, still.  Still.

Still love you.

Still hurting.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

It's official.  I'm taking this cleaning out our house seriously.  I've started going through your cookbooks and donated 55 of them to one of the local libraries.  It's a small part of your overall collection, which I will eventually let go.  Like everything else in our house, I have bittersweet feelings about it.

You certainly could cook some wonderful meals and loved to peruse these cookbooks.  Lately though, these books have been taking up space and just collecting dust.  Additionally, there are far too many to take with me when I eventually leave this place.

I don't know why, but I began with your Cooking Light Cookbooks, Bon Appetite, and similar ones.  I guess it was easy checking these books for 'stray' papers within them.  They also didn't seem to be used much.  They were in pretty pristine condition.

Wow, you had a copy of the Cooking Light Annual Recipes Books from 1997 through 2013, only lacking the 2005 version.  Now this poses a bit of a puzzle.  What happened in 2005 that we didn't get a copy of this recipe book?  I've tried to figure it out, but have had no luck; especially with the way my mind has been working lately.  I know that if you were here, you would be able to solve this puzzle almost instantly.  I certainly hope it doesn't keep me awake tonight.

Thank you for not stuffing 'stray' papers in these books.  For the most part, only the 2010 version had a number of local restaurant menus stuffed within it.  That was the year we moved here to Fort Worth.  Like everywhere else we lived, we always gathered local menus to decide where and what we would eat prior to journeying to that particular restaurant or having it delivered to us, if that service existed.  We certainly could plan our meal trips well.

My current thought is to keep one or two of your cookbooks.  Probably ones that you had back when we met in college.  I believe I'm going to remember these most, you had them for longer than we knew each other, the one I can think of is from England, and you used to cook many meals from them.  Their condition doesn't matter.  I hope I will cherish them even if they are in a tattered state.

I sure do miss the meals you used to make.  I also miss watching you peruse your cookbooks.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Friday, June 21, 2019, a day of reluctant removal.  They say that you know when it is time.  Sometimes though, events force one to do things much more prematurely than desired.  For me, that was Friday, June 21, 2019.

On Thursday, June 20th, after work, I met with the contractor who was repairing my fence, parts of which had collapsed after recent high wind conditions.  We began removing panels, removing the broken posts, and digging a new posthole.  The temperature that day was around 96F with a heat index of around 103F.  It was hot.

I thought I would sleep like a baby that night.  Instead, around three in the morning, I awoke due to a painful ring finger.  I somehow managed to go back to sleep for a couple more hours, but when I awoke to get ready for work, the pain was still there.  It was a numbing pain throughout my ring finger.  I couldn't understand it.  Of all ten fingers, this was the only one causing me pain.  It hurt to make a fist with my left hand as well as to apply any pressure using the fingers on my left hand.

It was difficult to open twist top containers and to tie my shoes.  It was painful holding the steering wheel with my left hand while I was driving to work.  Nothing appeared odd with my finger except that it was slightly swollen.  I decided to cut my wedding ring off of my finger in hopes that maybe it was causing the pain (cutting off blood flow to the finger).  I certainly wasn't ready to remove my wedding ring, but felt that it needed to be done in an attempt to alleviate the pain from my ring finger.  The pain didn't immediately subside, but eventually did.

That ring has been on my finger for almost 23 years.  It felt totally weird not having it on my finger.  I felt naked, exposed, and vulnerable.  I find myself trying to grab the ring with my right hand to turn it on my finger and momentarily wondering where it went.  I also still find myself stroking my beard with my left hand as a gesture to an approaching woman that I'm married; only realizing that I no longer have the ring on my finger.  There is currently an indention on my ring finger where the ring had been, but who knows how long that is going to remain.

When I told this to a friend of mine on Saturday, she asked if I was going to have the ring enlarged and wear it again.  Oddly, she appeared distraught when I told her that I wasn't going to do that since I can't go back and since it wouldn't be the same.  Whether I enlarge the ring or somehow put it back on as it was when I cut it off, to me it will not be the same.  I plan on keeping my ring with yours and holding onto them until I figure out what to do with them.  If I ever bury your ashes, I may bury the rings with them. I just don't know right now.

I actually thought I would have a grief ambush when I cut the ring from my finger.  Instead, I shed a single tear.  I guess the pain from my finger was a deterrent - that and the thought/shock of not having it on any longer.

I'm now ringless.  It may now appear as if I'm a widower, or single once again.  However, it doesn't change the fact that I still love you, miss you dearly, and still feel (and want to be) married to you.  Looks can be so damn deceiving!  Single - and in pain - my pain.  This truly hurts, at times, to an exceedingly crushing depth.  Dear God, only you can help.  Please help me!

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I started cleaning up the house in preparation for selling it.  Soon after you died, my mind was constantly flipping like a fish out of water.  "Do I sell the house or do I keep it?  Do I get a cat or do I not get a cat?  Do I get a dog or do I not get a dog?  Do I find another woman or do I remain single?"  Eventually my mind settled down and these questions weren't constantly flipping in my mind.

I decided I was going to sell the house since it was too big for the two of us, it was that much bigger for me, it was my gift to you, and if God decided to put another woman in my life, I wouldn't feel right bringing her into this house.  I had a realtor come over to look at the place this past Wednesday and she thinks that I could have it sold prior to the end of the summer.

She asked if she could get me some help organizing my belongings, but I told her that I felt I needed to take responsibility for that task.  Besides, I told her that with such a tight schedule, I would probably have to shovel everything within boxes and move them to storage until I had an opportunity to go through them at a more leisurely pace.

I started gathering all the cards we left out as decorations.  I kept telling myself not to read them, but couldn't help myself.  I would read most of the cover and, in some cases, opened up the card to see what was written within.  Tears began to flow as I reminisced about the love we once had shared.  It was doubly difficult reading an anniversary card to us from my dad and stepmom.

Then I discovered a small patch collection you had mostly of the national parks you had visited.  There were some from some soccer teams, which I thought was odd since you didn't like soccer.  I never knew you had collected these patches and felt somewhat cheated since I'll never be able to ask you about them, as I so desired upon discovering them.

In your knitting basket, I found a couple decorative thimbles and thought, "How cute."  I don't know why, but I put them in a box for storage to deal with them later.  I also now feel as if I should go adopt 50 cats.

I decided to go through some of the mountains of paperwork we somehow managed to acquire over these years together.  I found more cards, letters from your biking club friends in England who I met on a trip there, and photos of us with other family members that I had forgotten we had.  More tears flowed.

Going through 'our stuff' is so bittersweet.  I know it has to be done, but some of the reminders still bring painful memories.  I am so thankful for the memories though they still hurt.

I have the urge to count the number of cookbooks I now own, but do not have the time.  In gathering some of them, I came across some older ones from England that I pondered how I was going to handle.  At the moment, I'm going to hold on to them.  I did find a couple recipes that you used to make that I absolutely enjoyed.  I plan on passing them on to Cari to see if she would be willing to try to make them.

This will be the first house I've sold without you, love.  I know I need to let it go, but it is still so bittersweet.  No worries though, rest assured wherever I go, I will carry you in what remains of my shattered heart.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember the two bus tours we made to NYC?  The buses took us from outside of Reading, Pennsylvania and dropped us off near Times Square for the day.  On our first trip there, we decided to tour the southern side of the Big Apple.  On our second trip there (possibly a year or two later, I can't recall), we toured the area in and around Central Park.

On our first trip there, if I remember correctly, we walked through Times Square then to the Financial District admiring the architecture along the way.  We then went to the southern tip of the Peninsula where we caught a ferry over to the Statue of Liberty.  Prior to catching the ferry, I remember that it started to rain.  All of a sudden, there were these street vendors come out of nowhere selling umbrellas at a price.  Most of them wound up in the trash having turned inside out from the wind with, apparently, no chance of restoring the umbrella back to a usable state.

We walked around the base of the statue, but couldn't go inside since it was under construction.  That was a bummer.  So, we caught the ferry over to Ellis Island where we learned a little about early American history in relation to immigration.  We then caught the ferry back to the peninsula and visited Ground Zero.

Construction on the site had already begun, but it was still fenced off with dedications and mementos hanging all over the fence.  Rather a somber moment reading about those lost in that horrific event.

I think we went to Chinatown for lunch, but it was too crowded.  We ended up having a nice lunch at a restaurant in Little Italy.

We next went to the Empire State Building, but the line was much too long for us to chance missing the bus back home.  So, we went to Grand Central Station and admired the architecture and artwork there.  Then it was the walk back to the bus and a relaxing ride back to our car in Pennsylvania.

We pretty much had the same bus route on our second visit to NYC.  On this trip, we went north into Central Park and eventually to the Guggenheim Museum.  We went through the museum admiring the various pieces of art they had on display.  We also enjoyed the architecture of the museum itself.

After enjoying the museum, we spent most of the rest of the day walking around Central Park.  It is amazingly large for an inner city park.

We then went to the place where there was a skating rink (Radio City Tower?) and found a nice cafe there where we enjoyed a lunch.  After that was our trek back to catch the bus for a relaxing ride back to our car in Pennsylvania.

I wasn't too keen how crowded it was, but there was a lot to do and see there.  We planned to go back again, but never did.

If there is anyone I want to go to the Big Apple with, it's you my love.  I still miss you.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember the one vacation we spent in Maryland (if I could only remember the name of the town)?  It was a historic building with bedrooms reflective of colonial America.  There was a canopy bed that was so high off the ground that required use of a footstool to access it.

The bathroom was much more modern.  It had a large Jacuzzi tub, and a water closet with both a standard flush toilet and a bidet.  I had never seen an actual bidet up to this point in my life.

It didn't take curious Coy any time to investigate this contraption.  Luckily, I wasn't standing over the bowl when I decided to step on the pedal.  A stream of water shot from the bottom of the bowl straight up to the ceiling.  I said "oops" and thought to myself, "that's one way to wash the ceiling."  Then I began to wonder why anyone would want that stream of water hitting them anywhere.  I thought to myself, "If I tried to wash my backside with that stream, I'd have water coming out of my ears."  That stream just seemed powerful enough to do just that.

When I left the bathroom, I told you that you might want to take an umbrella into the restroom if you need to use it because I tested the bowl and it shot water onto the ceiling.  You had obviously been well trained in WC (Water Closet) etiquette for you knew what that bowl was called, how to use one, and had experience actually using one.  I believe I was more impressed with your knowledge of that contraption than I was of the water stream that shot out of it.  That's my Sunny.

I think we stayed there for an extended weekend.  We enjoyed hiking the nearby mountain trails.  On one of our hikes, we encountered a painted turtle walking across the trail.  It was neat finding a turtle at that elevation.  After taking a few photos of it, off we went to enjoy the rest of our hike together.

Although we enjoyed the hiking, we really enjoyed relaxing together in the Jacuzzi tub with a glass of wine each evening.  I thought of rinsing my wine cup out using the bidet.  Thankfully, it was just a passing thought.

How I miss going on our adventurous vacations together.  I love and miss you my travelling companion.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I decided to write this after self-reflecting on some recent guilt I've felt and on my understanding of the situation.

I promised I would love you, Sunny, until death do us part.  A poem was read to our group a couple of weeks ago at one of my GriefShare sessions.  It stated that you have kept your end of our wedding vow.  That is, you loved me up to and even on the day you died.  That was the day our wedding vow ended.

So, why can't I keep my end of the promise?  Because I still love you!  And I will love you until I lose my mind and/or my life.  Though I still love you, and always will, I am no longer bound to you and haven't been since the day of your death.  This has been difficult for me to grasp (for lack of a better word) because I still feel as if we are married, I don't want to let you go (as if I can), and I haven't really had any deep feelings for anyone else other than friendships that I believe are deeper relationships than those that are superficial.

Somewhere I read that the heart is big enough to mourn and love simultaneously.  Though I thought this beautiful, I had yet to feel it and often wondered how the small remnant of my shattered heart could possibly beat for another.  I'm also trying to submit myself entirely to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  I've prayed to God that if he wants me to have another woman in my life, He needs to drop her in my lap with a sign that says, "I'm all yours, buddy!" because, as I've included in my prayer, "If You give me an opportunity to misinterpret, You know I will.

Now I have since met a number of women to which I often ask God with anticipation, "Is she the one?" though I truly believe I'm not ready to have another woman in my life (other than for a deeper than superficial relationship).  Well, this may have changed recently.  Though I haven't seen my requested sign, God has placed a woman in my life who I not only want to get to know on a deeper level, but I believe God has allowed her to touch my heart in a way I haven't felt in quite some time.

It has been terrifyingly wonderful.  Of course, I had to make sure it wasn't heartburn or my mind playing tricks on me, but she has been on my mind, I find comfort being with her, and love our conversations.  I pray that God allow me to only show her His loving kindness and that I bring comfort into her life.  I have been so thankful to God for bringing us together and continually pray that He Blesses our friendship.

Since your death Sunny, there have only been two things that have brought me joy - Nerf Wars (which I'll have to explain in another message at a later date) and the way God has allowed this woman to touch my broken heart.  Sunny, your eyes are probably on Jesus Christ in Heaven.  You have no interest in what's going on here on Earth.  I would also like to think that you wish nothing but joy and happiness in what remains of my life here on this planet.

With that said, I still feel guilty.  Why?  Since God allowed this woman to touch my heart in this terrifyingly wonderful way, she's been on my mind a lot.  Sometimes I believe I'm thinking of and praying for her when I should have my attention on you.  The other day, at one of my bereavement groups, while receiving a monster hug from one of the facilitators, I was thinking of the woman who God has allowed to touch my heart and wondered later why I hadn't thought of you during that monster hug.

I'm sure I'm going to have guilty feelings concerning you, Sunny, throughout my life (or, at least, the possibility of them exist).  I will have to deal with them as they surface.  As I've said earlier, I will always love you Sunny.  If God is allowing me to live and is willing to allow me to fall in love with another, I am going to have to learn how to love you (via mourning) as well as her simultaneously and, as well as I possibly can, without compare.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I don't know why, but my mind has wandered back to Houston.  While there, remember how you would frequently attend one of the local chapters of the Daughters of the British Empire (DBE)?  You would have afternoon tea with the group and, as I would imagine, discuss all things British.  The group was also known for their charity services.  I remember attending one of their auctions for a charitable cause, but it was so long ago that I just don't remember the details.

I used to tease you by asking if instead this group should be called the Daughters of the British Regime (DBR).  I was almost certain this group of mainly elderly women were plotting a hostile takeover of the United States for their country and Queen.  You would assure me that they had no intention of overthrowing the country.

The DBE also held charitable events.  I remember attending one of their auctions for a charitable cause, but it was so long ago that I just don't remember the details.

Gone are those days my love.  I certainly miss them and you.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

This is my third Mother's Day without you.  Though we didn't have children, you were technically a pet mother to our five little piggies.  So, Happy Mother's Day!

Though there was nothing I could do about it, I regretted you never being able to meet my mom.  She died before we ever met.  I believe you two would have hit it off smashingly well.  Like you, my mom was a very lovely person.  I wouldn't have traded her for the world.

I only wish we had gotten along better with your mum.  She was definitely set in her ways.  I can't remember what year your mum died, but that may have been the last time we visited England, to attend her funeral.  Oh how the memories fade.

I wished a Happy Mother's Day weekend to family and friends that I knew were moms.  Almost made an oopsie when I wished a friend Happy Mother's Day, only to discover that she didn't have any kids.  Thankfully, she had a couple of cats, so I happily extended the well wishes to her as a cat mom.  She seemed to be OK with that.  Either that or she's just super-duper kind.

I miss having you here with me my love, no matter what day it is.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

As I sit here munching on some pretzels, I can't help but remember our trip to the pretzel shop in Lititz Pennsylvania.  Not only were we able to sample a variety of pretzels, remember them teaching us how to make them the old-fashioned way?

After putting on our hairnets, we made our way to the tables where there was flour and dough.  If I recall correctly, we pulled off a piece of dough and rolled it on the flour into a long cylindrical string.  We used a long piece for ease of demonstration.  With one fluid motion, we were to fling and twist the dough so that it would land on the table in the typical pretzel twist shape.

Although the process seemed easy, it wasn't - especially the landing.  You could get the fling and twist motion down and still have your pretzel look like anything but what it was supposed to look like.  If they had graded on shape and symmetry of the pretzel after its landing, let's just say that we didn't do very well.

Nevertheless, it was a fun way to spend part of an afternoon.  Not only that, I believe I purchased a variety of pretzels for later consumption.  In those days, I enjoyed the sourdough and mustard flavored ones.  I don't recall you being an avid pretzel eater in those days.

We certainly had fun going to different places and learning different things together, my love.  I still miss you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Happy Birthday Sunny!  This is the third birthday you've been gone and I still miss you so very much!

I don't know why, but sometimes it feels like it was so long ago and far away.  The more difficult times are when it feels like it just happened.

I had a very difficult grief ambush this past Friday, May 3rd.  During work, I was hit with three waves of grief in succession.  I was trying to fill my head with happy songs and not dwelling too much on your upcoming birthday when the first wave hit.  My tears began flowing uncontrollably.  It was so hard to see.  The worst part is when the nose begins running as if it were in a race with the tears.  I had to make my way to the restroom to blow my nose.  No sooner had I left the restroom when the second wave hit.  I returned to the restroom to clean my nose again.  No sooner had I left the restroom when the third wave hit.  Where are all these tears coming from?  Back to the restroom for another round of nasal cleaning.

My tears returned Monday night during a meeting where I learned of others and their grief journeys.  I can't help but shed tears when I hear their stories.
 
I went to work today and tried to keep my mind focused on the tasks at hand.  After work, I talked with Cari for a while on the phone.  I wouldn't know what to do without my sister.  I love her so very much.  Later, at home, I received a wonderful call from a dear friend who I cherish speaking with.  Thank God for those who bring comfort to others.

Happy Birthday, my love!  Birthdays are not the same without you.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,
I apologize my love.  It's been awhile since I last wrote.  I'm trying to keep busy and I lose track of time.  I'm so exhausted.  Yet, I can't seem to get a decent night's sleep.  I have to learn how to relax.  How can I relax when the one I loved to relax with is no longer around?  It's been two and half years and I still haven't figured this out.

The last two Saturdays (Apr 6 and 13), I took a five-hour nap in the afternoon/evening.  Each time, I initially went down for two hours, hit the snooze button a few times, and turned the alarm clock off before going back to sleep for approximately three hours more.  You would think I would be refreshed after a five-hour nap, but I wasn't.  I was exhausted!  I've started nodding off during some of my early morning and evening activities.

I'm still going through grief moments as well.  On Friday, April 12, out of the blue, Janis Joplin's "Me and My Bobby McGee" got stuck in my head.  The lyrics, "I'd give up my tomorrows for a single yesterday..." brought tears to my eyes as I thought how I would love to have another day, even a single yesterday, with you, my love.  Then an Adele song came to mind and made things worse.  I don't know why, but that day at that time with those songs prompted grief.  I'm currently thinking about those songs and lyrics without the same effect.

The strongest grief moment I've recently had occurred during Maundy Thursday at my coworker's church.  They provide a very powerful and moving sermon of Jesus' last days on earth.  During the re-enactment of Mary grieving over Jesus' body before he was entombed, I was overwhelmed with grief.  Though I knew it was a re-enactment and I don't know what it is like having a son die, my mind became flooded with all my family, relatives, and friends who had died.  I so wanted to get up and leave because it felt as if I was going to let out a load moan, but I couldn't move and I couldn't catch my breath.  The floodgates opened as I sat and gasped for air.

I've also had to deal with forgetfulness throughout the past weeks.  Two Mondays ago, I forgot my belt.  Thankfully, it was just the belt.  It would have been exceedingly embarrassing showing up to work with just a belt and no pants.  I've also rinsed berries to take to eat in the morning and forget to take them.  On Thursday, April 11th, as I was driving to an evening activity, I almost turned my car around and started heading toward another place because I momentarily thought it was Friday and wondered why I was going in the direction I had been traveling.  Thank God, before I got off course, I realized it was actually Thursday.

I certainly hope this doesn't get any worse before it gets better.  I love and miss you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember how we loved the hiking in Pennsylvania?  At one time, we were members of three different clubs, the Elverson Walking Club, the Blue Mountain Hiking Club, and the Reading Hiking Club (I may not have all these names 100%, but it doesn't matter).  We would keep our eyes on the schedules of each and determine which hike(s) we wanted to do that weekend.  Often, we would enjoy a hike on Saturday and on Sunday.

We met many wonderful people on these hikes and put many miles on our boots.  Remember the winter hikes?  Everyone would be all bundled up nice and warm.  Then there was me.  I would have my coat on for the first mile, get overheated, take my coat off and hike in just a T-shirt for the next mile, then put my coat back on for the next mile.  The elderly women hiking with us didn't like seeing me hiking in the winter with just a T-shirt on.  It supposedly made them feel cold.  So, I was asked to hike in the back of the group.  You were kind enough to join me in the back of the group to keep me company.  I certainly miss those days hiking with you, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I don't know why this came to mind.  Remember back in Houston, we went to the San Francisco Steakhouse for a Valentine's Day Meal Offer one year?  Neither of us were especially fond of steak, but decided to give it a go.  That place was packed that evening.

The tables were so close together, you could almost eat off an adjacent table without stretching that much.  Thankfully, nobody tested this.  We all behaved ourselves that night.  We chatted a little with the one couple sitting on the one side of our table.

I can't recall the meal, but do remember the big chunk of cheese setting on the table as an appetizer.  We had a cheese shaver to shave off slices from this block of what I believe was a type of cheddar.  I, of course, put my shaving skills to practice that evening.

The other thing I remember was that woman on the swing above the bar who would swing high enough every so often to ring, with her foot, a bell hanging from the ceiling.  I can't recall if something happened, or was supposed to happen, upon the bell being rung.  It might have been purely for entertainment value.  It certainly didn't make my meal taste any better.

It was wonderful sharing a lovely time with you my dear.  How I miss those days.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember the very pleasant couple we met on one of the hiking trips.  J and V were around our age group and enjoyed similar activities.  We belonged to at least one of the same hiking clubs with them and always hiked together when we happened to join the same hike.  We became very close with them, had meals together, and even went on a white water rafting vacation together.

I remember how they were so jealous of us when they discovered that you stayed home to take care of the house during the week, so that we could go enjoy the weekends together.  They both worked regular hours, so used one of their weekend days for catching up with groceries, laundry, and house chores.  That, of course, was when I was earning a lovely salary with one of the majors.

Sadly, we lost track of J and V, as well as the rest of those we used to hike with in Pennsylvania when we moved back to Houston.  I wonder how they all are doing.

I've been feeling rather low lately without you.  Love you lots!

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

It has been awhile since I've written.  It doesn't mean that you haven't been on my mind, for you have, every day, almost always.

As you are probably well aware, my dad has gone to be with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  He left us earlier this month.  I got to see him in the hospital on the day they moved him to Hospice.  Though I didn't like waiting for him to go and hoping and praying for him to be miraculously healed, I am glad I went to be with him on his final days on earth.

There are many things I'm already missing about my dad.  One of which is hearing him call you Sweet Pea when we talked about you.  When you both were alive, and I spoke with him on the phone, he would always ask how Sweet Pea was doing.  He would also tell me to let Sweet Pea know that they loved you before we ended our conversation.  Remember how I used to tell you that our TN kinfolk say they love you, Sweet Pea?

Give him a big ole hug for me when you see him, but not if he is playing guitar and singing Johnny Cash songs.  Hopefully, you are singing along with him.

I still miss you so very much, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember the sympathetic, rather amusing, comment made by one of our neighbors soon after moving into our new home in Pennsylvania?  Though I cannot remember the details of the conversation, it centered on moving and your perception of the 'locals.'  We expressed that although we were tired moving from one town to this particular one, approximately 30 miles apart, it did not compare with our two previous moves across country or with your move from England to the United States many years ago.

You mentioned that you felt uneasy with most of the 'locals' since they apparently treated you as an outsider once they realized you were not from the area.  It made you wonder if they were xenophobic.  I recall mentioning that I didn't notice them treating me similarly (probably paying it no heed).  The one neighbor woman said that she knew how you felt since it happened to her when she first relocated to the neighborhood.

We asked where she moved from expecting, at least, to hear her say another state.  Instead, she told us she moved from a small town in the neighboring county just nine miles away.  She was born and raised her entire life in this part of the country.  We looked at each other in shock wondering how she figured she knew how you felt.  I wanted to ask her if she was a Hatfield or a McCoy and wondered what family feud we had landed ourselves into.  I believe our response, somewhat sarcastic, was how difficult that must have been and just listened to her tell us about her move.

I'm sure you and I chuckled about it later.  It certainly took us by surprise though upon hearing it.  I guess it boils down to perspective.

Now you seem so very far away.  If only you were across the pond.  I miss you a whole lot, my beautiful foreign wife, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember after moving into our new home in Pennsylvania how you wanted to have a welcoming gathering so that we could meet all our neighbors?  You planned it all out, set up the tables with the fancy table cloths and cutlery, strategically positioned store bought snacks and your delicious hors d'oeuvres, set out ingredient cards (in case anyone had any food allergies), and had previously invited all our neighbors to the event.  I helped as best I could, mainly by staying out of the way.  I wasn't even allowed to pre-sample any of the delicacies.  As I recall, it was a wonderful gathering.

Most, if not all, our neighbors came over to visit.  We met them and learned a lot about them and the area.  Based on the conversation, we discovered that we were the new kids on the block.  Everyone else, for the most part, knew each other.  Most had lived in the neighborhood since the houses were built.

The food and wine were well appreciated and they were pleased that you had invited them together to meet us.  Due to the unusual commotion within the house, I believe our five little piggies tried to hide themselves away as best they could during the event.

After the gathering was over and the neighbors had departed, you decided that you would like to have another gathering with the neighbors real soon.  We also agreed that it would be nice if one of the other neighbors had a similar gathering at their place.  Neither ever occurred.  I guess we just got too busy.

You certainly had some wonderful ideas and could make some downright delicious food.  I miss you so very much, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember when we began going to the Bingo Hall at the mall in Morgantown?  It was set up with two rooms.  One room was for the smokers.  It was heavily infested with smoke.  The other room was for us non-smokers.  In my opinion, we would have been better off sitting outside since we could never find a seat in the non-smoking area that didn't reek of cigarette smoke emanating from the smoker's room.  That stuff was thick.  Whenever the door to the smoker's room was opened, the smoke always appeared to billow out of that room.  Never did I ever see the air from the non-smoker's room migrate into the smoker's room.  I could be wrong.  It seemed so long ago and far away.

Every now and then, they would serve a meal for those who wanted something to eat while playing bingo.  I don't recall the food being anything to rave about, but it was inexpensive.  I guess you got what you paid for.

I don't recall, except for one night, winning any games.  One night though, I was getting anxious waiting for my last number to be called for a 'fill in the entire card' victory.  Although it felt like forever, they finally called my number, so I got to shout out 'Bingo!' and claim my winnings.  Unfortunately, another person had the same winning number, which meant splitting the victory pot with them.  I can't recall how much the winnings were.  I believe I brought home either $50 or $100 that night - the only time I recall it happening.

Bingo gave us something to do on a Sunday evening away from home.  I certainly miss my Bingo Buddy.  I still love and miss you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I had a somewhat adventurous trip to Tennessee to visit with family this Christmas and New Year.  Car trouble almost left me stranded on my drive there.  Thank God, my car (yours previously) eventually started.  Then it wouldn't initially start when dad and I were going to take it to his mechanic.  After some time, it started and spent two days at the mechanic's shop, first for isolating the problem, then for waiting on and installing the part.  I haven't had an issue with the car since, but still pray whenever I get behind the wheel.

After almost being stranded on my drive to Tennessee, I was reluctant to pull off the interstate to change CDs.  So, during the trip, after listening to the one Bible CD a few times, I decided to listen to the radio.  I found a station playing Christmas songs and sought that joyful Christmas spirit.  Most of the songs were cheerful.  One song in particular though, "Ghost of Christmas Past" by Elizabeth Chan (I had to research this), which I had never heard before, hit me hard.  I began reminiscing about our time together, longed to have you back, and missed having you with me that much more.  Upon researching this song, I just watched its YouTube Video and found it more depressing then the actual song itself.  Dear God help me!

I enjoyed the visit with family in Tennessee.  I'll admit though, I went offline the entire time and felt as if I vegetated most of this time with my dad in front of the telly.  I believe I watched enough telly to keep me satisfied for a while.  We watched many of the shows we typically watch and I got hooked on a couple ('Criminal Minds' and 'America Says') while there this visit (though I have yet to turn on the telly since being back home).

I finally watched "It's a Wonderful Life" in its entirety while there.  Although an excellent movie, it is not the most jolly of Christmas stories.

One day, Dad and I watched what I would call a short story; I believe was called 'November Song' on EWTN.  It was filmed in Oxfordshire England about a young girl reliving a walk she used to make to a local church cemetery to watch (from a hidden vantage point) an older woman pray, with the rosary, over the grave of a WWI soldier.  She wondered what the older woman was praying, when in walks a WWI soldier to the very grave site where the older woman is praying and has what appears to be a brief, warm-hearted conversation with her (viewers only hear what the young girl says/thinks/narrates and she ponders to herself what the two are saying).  The WWI soldier and the older women then depart their separate ways as the young girl comes out from her vantage point undecided which of the two to chase down to ask them about their conversation.  I found the story quite quaint and, being English, directed my memory to you.

I actually stayed up to watch the New Year roll in.  I missed the New York ball drop in Times Square because I was watching a college bowl game on a different station and lost track of time.  I did watch the 'fleur de lis' drop in New Orleans at midnight and was quite bored watching it by myself.

Dad and I watched the Rose Bowl on January 1st between Ohio State and Washington.  Ohio State had control of the game until the fourth quarter when Washington started making a comeback.  I began chewing my nails, especially since I had recently watched Northwestern come back against Utah in the second half of the Holiday Bowl and Stanford overcame Pittsburgh in the later part of the 4th quarter in the Sun Bowl.  Thankfully, Ohio State were the victors in the Rose Bowl this year (I know, football doesn't interest you).

As usual, I still don't look forward to coming home to an empty house.  I thought it was going to be an adventurous journey home since, according to the weather channel, Dallas had been under slush conditions, Fort Worth had been under icy conditions and it was projected to remain that way for another day or two.  I was looking forward to the wintery conditions since I saw no snow in Tennessee this Christmas season and it appeared DFW was more wintery than Tennessee for my journey home.

I survived another Holiday Season without you, my love, though I would rather have you here with me.  I'm still trying to learn to live without you, and admittedly, it is not that easy at all.  Overall, it feels as if this season has been one of loss (family and things).  I can only hope and pray that things get better in 2019.  I still love and miss you so very much, my dear.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember when we first moved to Pennsylvania and frequently visited Valley Forge?  What a very lovely place with its rolling fields, wooded areas, and historic structures.  We used to jog around Valley Forge in preparation for our next marathon.  During our first winter there, we decided to go for an early morning jog at Valley Forge.  A pristine blanket of snow covered the park.  We in our cold weather jogging outfits would be the first to lay tracks in the park that day.  We were not that familiar with the park, so decided to use the outside perimeter of the wooded area as or guide marker.

The snow we encountered on the jog that morning was up to our knees.  We were literally trying to plough through it with every step.  Though we tried to make it as far as we could, trudging through the snow wore us out.  We eventually cut our jog short that morning, but felt as if we got a decent workout.

Sometime after the winter thaw, we returned to Valley Forge and realized we were far away from the sidewalks and trails when we attempted to jog there during the winter.  We could only laugh at the thought of how we looked trying to jog around the park in an area knee-deep in snow.

How I enjoyed the many places we had jogged together.  You are so very much missed, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

The other day, while volunteering at an event, when there was a lull in the action, I was talking with another volunteer when I overheard a mother, next to us, talking with her teenage son, both volunteering with our group.  When I had the chance, I asked her if she was British.  She said she was.  I then asked her where from, to which she replied Norfolk.  I think my face lit up when she said that for I responded that that was where my wife was from.  I then asked her from what town.  She said Cromer by the Sea.  I told her that I had been there and I believe that was where I was going to initiate myself into the British Polar Bear Society by immersing myself into the North Sea.  Instead, I opted for a single finger immersion for it was cold outside that day and that water was very frigid.

She asked where you were from and I let them know that you were from Norwich.  I let her know about us and began asking her all kinds of questions.  I found myself just wanting to hear her talk.  The conversation was bittersweet for though I enjoyed our talk, her voice reminded me of yours.  It was a sad reminder of how much I miss hearing your voice, missing you entirely.  Dear God, let me hear Sunny's voice one more time!  I know - it wouldn't be enough.  I would just want to keep listening to her over and over again.

Her son was also included in the conversation.  Though he was born in England, he only lived there for a short time, and didn't acquire or keep a strong English accent.

Remember how you once told me that you didn't have an accent; I did because England existed well before the colonized United States.  So, I used to introduce you as my wife with the lovely lack of accent.  I chuckle thinking about it.

My love, I still miss you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

For some reason, the other day, while driving somewhere, I cracked the window to get some cool fresh air into the car and upon doing so; I thought about some of the places I had used the power windows ever so cheekily.  Remember, when I used to open your window then lock it so you couldn't control it?

I can't recall where we were trying to get to, but instead, we got lost in the southeastern side of Houston.  It was a run down side of the city and was getting late in the day.  I decided to pull over, open your window, and asked you to ask that complete stranger how to get to where we were going. I figured they would more readily talk to you than to me.  You weren't prepared for this and shrunk in your seat in synch with the window coming open.  It didn't help when you discovered that your window controls weren't working.  Some years later, I pulled the same stunt with you on the eastern side of Pittsburgh.  I don't believe we ever asked these people for directions.  Yet, somehow, I'm certain I suffered the consequences from my silly ideas.  You would think I had learned my lesson, sadly I hadn't.

We were visiting the drive through safari outside of San Antonio, Texas.  We each got a bag of the feed for the animals as we drove through the park.  You didn't want the animals (mainly ostriches and zebras) getting too close to you.  Then, of course, I got this hair-brained idea.  I opened your window and locked it open.  Before we knew it, a zebra had its head in the car enjoying the feed from the bag you had in your hand.  The moment was priceless.  After it had its fill, it quietly went on its way.

Although I've had some hair-brained ideas on some of our travels, I still miss my beautiful travel companion.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I can't remember if we went away on a weekend excursion (having our best vet S check in on our piggies while we were gone), or just for a day hike (you would certainly know).  Remember coming home and noticing a peculiar odor in the house?  You may have looked at me suspiciously being that I was considered the master stinker of our household (dear God, please forgive me for I do say this with a bit of pride).  Unfortunately, it wasn't me.

When we made it to the living room, we noticed that one of our piggies (I believe it was P) was standing on G as if to make a piggy ladder in an attempt to escape from their pen (most likely, in my opinion, to raid the refrigerator of all the luscious lettuce that may have been in there).  We had never seen any of our pigs standing atop another.  G wasn't complaining at all; she was perfectly still.  Upon closer examination, our worst fears were realized; one of our first little piggies had died while we were away from home.

Saddened by the discovery, with tear-stained eyes, you removed her from the pen, held her quietly as you stroked her fur one last time as I retrieved a shoebox to hold her.  We were certainly not prepared for this.  Losing a pet is difficult, since they are often considered family.

Sometime later, we discussed what to do with her.  We didn't like the idea of placing her out in the back woods or burying her in the yard for the thought of some wild animal or neighbor's pet digging her up and enjoying their find.  We talked about having her stuffed, but couldn't decide whether to have her posed in a natural stance or in a more dynamic one.

I can't recall which one of us came up with the idea, but we began pondering the possibility of having her stuffed in a way that was more functional, like having her sat upright holding onto a clock.  We decided against this idea because we didn't like the thought of where and how to insert the batteries.  We also didn't like the thought of how she would look being dilapidated and falling apart after some time.

We also discussed having her cremated and keeping her ashes in a vase until we were told how much it would cost.  Eventually, we decided to leave her at the vets with other pets/animals that they collect over a period of time for what I'll call a communal cremation and burial.

That was a very sad day in our household, going from five to four little piggies.  No matter how sad that day was, my love, it comes nowhere close to the day you departed.  Although I miss those little piggies of ours, I miss you so much more.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

The widowed group I meet with held a candlelight memorial service today.  It was held in a small, but lovely chapel.  It was nice, yet bittersweet, reminiscing with others who I had met throughout the year.  One friend said that she really liked what I had shared about you at one of the previous meetings (either that you were a sweetheart and could make friends quicker than a snap of the fingers or that you were the sunshine of my life or about my first trip with your parents where I asked them for permission to marry you).  I also got to learn a little more about her and her late husband.

The service was beautiful.  There was a flute player prior to the service, a heartfelt (with a tad bit of humor) message by one of the widowers, the lighting of four representative candles and each of our individual candles, the reading of the names of each of our loved ones, a Scottish bagpiper playing Amazing Grace, and the closing.

The liquid love flowed for you at the ceremony, my love.  Though the service was exceedingly beautiful, it doesn't compare to you or to the love I still hold dear of you, my love.  How I still miss you.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I was recently visiting a friend when she began applying lotion to her hands.  I let her know that you used to use a variety of lotions and asked her about lotion in general.  She was delighted with my question for she had previously researched the topic and was willing to share with me what she had learned.

Now I paraphrase, in my own words, what I gained from that lesson (thankfully, there was no quiz afterward).  Apparently, there are a number of lotions in existence.  Some are for moisture retention, others for moisture detention.  There are exfoliates, while others delve deep into the dermis.  Some, thankfully, have medical benefits, while others, sadly, are simply scented.  Some labs, through molecular manipulation, attempt to create the ultimate 'secret sauce' of lotions - one that purifies the pigmentation, smooths the skin, and makes one glow like a newborn queen (ah, the so called fountain of youth).

Remember how I used to love to watch you lather up with the lotion?  I didn't want to handle it myself because I didn't care for that slippery sensation I felt with it on me.  It was tough for me to apply aloe vera on a burn, but I forced myself to do so because of the soothing relief it provided.

My biggest fear was that if I hugged you after you had lathered up with lotion, you would squirt out of my arms like a wet bar of soap.  What?  Where did you go?  You were here a minute ago.  Now all I have is this lotion trail up my front and on the insides of my arms.

How I miss my lotion-lathered lady.  I love you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I met with a widowed group this past Sunday.  We discussed different ways for handling/surviving the upcoming holidays.  We also launched balloons with messages to our spouses.  I, of course, let you know that I will always love you and miss you.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember the dilemma we faced with purchasing our first home?  When we moved to Pennsylvania, we first rented an upstairs apartment in Malvern directly across the street from where I worked.  Talk about convenience.  I could sleep in, didn't have any hectic commute, and used to come home regularly for lunch.  The only disadvantage was that I was the one who got called after hours if they needed someone at the facility immediately for whatever reason.  Luckily, I don't recall this ever occurring.

I can't remember how many months we stayed in this apartment complex, but there was either company incentive, our desire, or both to find our first house.  The one thing I do remember is that we decided to try to avoid Chester County (where our current residence was located) after we were told by our realtor that this was the county seat and, because of this, property taxes were generally higher than surrounding counties.

I don't recall how many houses we actually looked at, but we exhausted our options.  I do remember that one old brick house (couldn't tell you how to get there) on a lovely piece of property where the previous owner did an atrocious job at self-wiring the place.  I was afraid to flip any switches in that house for fear of setting it ablaze.

I believe it was the last house we looked at and knew this was it.  The house was on a small cul-de-sac, with an acre of wooded property.  It was a newly built ranch style home with a completely finished upper floor and a partially completed lower floor.  It was located on the Lancaster County side of the Lancaster-Chester County line.  Just before signing the documents, our realtor let us know that another house, satisfying our requirements, became available.  Although our hearts were set on this one, and we really didn't see how anything else could change our minds, we somewhat reluctantly decided to look at this other house.  Oh no!  Was it a mistake or fate?  We found another house that captured our hearts as well.

This was also a ranch style house, completely finished, both upper and lower floors.  It was on a residential street with an acre of open land.  It was located at the southern tip of Berks County outside of Morgantown.  It was a little older than the previous house we fell in love with, but now we had to make a decision.  Thus, our dilemma.  If only we could take what we liked from both homes and combine them into one, but that option was not available.

We liked the idea of living on a cul-de-sac (no through traffic).  We liked the completely finished house, which had an attached two car garage, more than the partially finished one, which had no garage.  We liked both properties.  After talking with co-workers and my dad, we liked the idea of having an acre of open land over a wooded acre.  We were told that although you get some great shade from having trees near the house, you have to deal with cleaning gutters and with mold on the house.  The cost of each house was almost the same.  Though we initially fell in love with the cul-de-sac house, and couldn't imagine anything persuading us to change our minds, we signed the papers for the completely finished Berks County dwelling.  Our very first house.

For the years we lived there, I will say that I never had to clean the gutters or deal with mold.  We did however have to deal with noise.  The residential street we lived on had a little country store on it and was a convenient cross over between two state highways.  You had to listen to school busses screeching their brakes at the intersection one empty lot away from our house.  During warmer weather, the VFW, located behind a wooded area across from our house hosted what sounded like outdoor concerts, which we heard for free, whether we wanted to or not.  We did live about a mile away from a lovely state park and got to see Amish buggies and bicycles heading in that direction during the warmer months as well.

I think we made the right decision with the purchase of our first house together.  Any place would have been wonderful with you there.  I certainly miss having you here at home, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

We certainly had met some wonderful workers at the various veterinarian places we frequented with our Guinea Pigs.  Remember how costly it was to board our piggies at these places when we went on an extended trip from home?  Just like the airlines, the vets considered guinea pigs "exotic" animals.  This meant, in my opinion, ching, ching, more money in their pockets whenever they treated our piggies or whenever we boarded them there.  Let's just say, with five Guinea Pigs, the vets were more than happy to board them for us.

This was before we became friends with S (and her man R).  Sadly, I can't remember their names (so choose these letters arbitrarily) and can't rely on you to remember their names for me, for I certainly know that you would have no problem doing so.  You had this uncanny ability to remember things.

When we moved to Morgantown, PA, S worked for one of the local vets.  We became friends with S and R on a number of hikes we did together.  They were members of at least one of the three hiking clubs in which we were members.  They loved animals, had a few pets of their own, and they lived not too far from us.

I can't remember how the suggestion originated, but S was more than happy to check in on our piggies at home while we were out of town.  We no longer had to board them at the vets.  Oh happy day!  I know we offered to pay her for helping us out, but I believe she refused any payment.  She was more than happy to help.  We were ever so grateful for her kindness.

We lost contact with them when we moved to Houston, over 13 years ago.  I certainly hope all is going well with them.  How I miss you, my love, and the many wonderful hikes we made together.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember our trip to the Allegheny National Forest in northwestern Pennsylvania?  I believe we made a trip to Ohio to visit relatives and on our return trip spent a few extra days near the National Forest so that we could hike some of the trails there.

I can't remember if it was one of the locals who directed us or if we had previously researched wineries in the area.  In any event, we made our way to Wilcox Winery somewhere near the national forest.  Eureka!  We felt as if we had found liquid gold in the form of sweet red wine, their Clarion River Red Wine - Yummy!

Up to this point in our wine tasting excursions (in Texas then in Pennsylvania), we had no success finding any sweet red wines suitable to my sugar prone palate.  We found plenty of suitable sweet white wines; we had just been unsuccessful with the reds, until this trip.

If our trip had then been cut short from some freak weather condition or animal infestation, we would have still considered the trip a success, based solely on the discovery of this suitable sweet red wine.  Not only that, their White Wedding was a suitably sweet white wine as well.

There is a sweet red and white wine in one location?  We kid you not.  We were ready to change our address to this location's zip code.  We loaded up the car with cases of each since we didn't know when we would make it back to this part of the state.  We immediately felt as if we were from another country, living so far away on the eastern side of the state.  Though they told us they could ship us wine to our address, in eastern Pennsylvania, we were reluctant to believe them at first and didn't like the idea of the driver making a few pit stops along the way for cameo appearances at different parties sharing samples of our deliciously sweet wines.

It didn't take long for us to appreciate the intrastate deliveries of our sweet wines from the far western side of Pennsylvania.  Beyond our first carload, we learned to share these lovely sweet wines with our friends and guests.

No matter how sweet the wines I have enjoyed in my life, their sweetness can't even compare with you, my love.  I miss you and love you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Wow, I can't believe I forgot about the time we took a Tai Chi class together.  I can't remember if it was when we lived in Houston, but believe it was while we were students at OSU.  During a recent bereavement group, a woman in the group mentioned that she began Tai Chi classes as something new for her.  As soon as she said Tai Chi, my mind immediately thought about the class we took together.

I really enjoyed that class, but you did not.  You did not like the repetitiveness of it.  You were ready to go through all the motions as quickly as possible and didn't like having to repeat what we had learned before that day's class.  Personally, I needed the repetitiveness to help me remember the sequence of moves for, as I recollect, there were many such moves.  Remember those smoothly flowing motions we learned during that class?  I can only remember a few of those moves now.

Though we never pursued careers, or hobbies, in the Tai Chi realm, I certainly enjoyed taking that class with you and practicing the sequence of moves together.  You will always be my Tai Chi companion.  I miss you and love you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

It's been two years since your passing and I still miss you so very much.  This came to mind the other day:

Hugging my blankie can't take the place of the warm embrace from my loving spouse
who brought warmth, life, and blissfulness to this now cold and forlorn house.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Saturday morning, on my way to church for an activity, I decided to take the back way.  I was heading south on Riverside Road, I came to an intersection where two police officers were directing traffic.  At first, I thought it odd since the traffic light appeared to be functioning properly, but then I realized why they were there.  A small cluster of cyclists rolled through the intersection heading north, then another cluster, then another.

As I continued south, I kept watching the cyclists heading north.  They didn't appear to be racing and they weren't wearing any numbers.  It appeared they were just a bicycle-touring group, and there were a lot of them.  Mostly men, but I did notice a few women cycling as well.

I thought that if you were still here, how you would so enjoy cycling down the road with the others.  Remember when you told me about your cycling days in England?  You were younger then and enjoyed touring various areas of the country with a couple different cycling groups.  I enjoyed meeting some of your cycling friends on a couple of my trips to England with you.  Though I don't recall ever meeting the one individual you said used to just want to touch your hair.  My suggestion of tossing him a wig that resembled your hair, as a gift, wasn't well appreciated.

I remember some of your stories about getting blown off the road by crosswinds while cycling in the Midlands.  Thankfully, you didn't get permanently injured.

I also reminisced about the few bike rides we took together here in the states.  My favorite had to be renting the mountain bikes and cycling through the woodlands, then up to Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park.  I also thought about our extended bike ride along the Little Miami River to enjoy some ice cream, but suffering from what I'll call 'bike seat syndrome,' where it felt like I was sitting on a bike seat for about a week after that ride.  I tried not to dwell on that particular bike ride too long for fear of a 'bike seat syndrome' relapse.  Ow!  Sometimes memories can hurt in more ways than one.

Though we never cycled together as much as we would have liked to, I miss my cycling companion.  I love you Sunny.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

After attending one of my bereavement groups this afternoon, I decided to take a 'scenic' way home.  It has been at least two years since I had journeyed through these parts of town.  How the memories of many of our adventures came to mind on this particular drive.

Passing Trinity River parks, I recalled the many wonderful walks we used to make on this particular area of the river.  I also remembered that we rode on that little yellow train in this part of the park a few different times.  How I miss taking a casual stroll with you along the river on a beautiful afternoon.

A little further up the road, I took a detour to avoid a construction area.  This put me so close to the winery we used to frequent, often before going to a movie.  Though I couldn't really get a good look at the building, turning down the road before it, memories of you and I relaxing at the bar enjoying a glass or two while talking with the staff or other consumers filled my head.

Passing the front of the movie tavern was probably the hardest part of this drive.  How we once frequented that place so much that we became 'first name' friends with most of the staff there.  At one point in time, we would catch an early show, enjoy a glass or two of wine at the bar, and then attend a later movie.  We would often purchase a bottle of one of their sweeter wines (remember how I used to state that I liked a little alcohol with my sugar?) and have the unfinished portion of the bottle corked for later enjoyment at home.

I also believe we had almost every meal they offered on their menu.  If I recall correctly, they once changed their menu.  We were saddened that they removed one of the meals we enjoyed, but discovered they had added a few new ones that were rather delectable.

I have yet to see a movie at this particular location since you've gone.  Who knows, I may never see another movie there.  The area around the movie house has certainly changed, but my memories of you and I enjoying time there together has almost remained as fresh as the days that we went there.  Oh, the bittersweet pain in my heart as I drove past this theatre.

Then I passed another part of the Trinity River Trails where we often parked to begin our wonderful walks together.  As I drove past, I could envision us walking side-by-side, holding hands, and having a lovely talk as we made our way to the bike and hike trail.  It was tearfully surreal.

Then I drove past a few places that I had worked and where I went to college for another degree.  Eh, they were short-lived thoughts, for I had something far too important on my mind on this drive - YOU!  Why weren't you here in the car with me?  Why weren't you at home waiting for me?  They were just wishful thoughts on my part.

I am happy to report that they have made improvements to a few of the previously 'choppy' roads that used to exist on this drive.  Even though, I would prefer to drive across a 'choppy' road in a car without shocks if I knew I was coming home to you, my love.  I sure miss my travelling companion.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember the logistics we faced when we first moved from Houston to Pennsylvania?  My supervisor had transferred there earlier and had a major project he felt would fit my expertise and a position there suited for me.  I can't recall exactly how we felt about the move.  We had been in Houston approximately two years, but the move put us closer to my family and to familiar hiking territory.  Our only dilemma appeared to be handling our little ones during the move.

We could have sent our five little guinea pigs via coach, but we weren't exactly ready to trust our little piggies to another for that length of time.  We talked about hiding them in our carry-on luggage, but knew their cries for food (whoop, whoop, whoop), triggered by anyone crinkling or opening a bag, would alert the flight attendants to our stowaways.  We decided to transport them legitimately.  That was an eye opening experience.

We looked at airline websites and talked to personnel to get the specifics we needed for taking our piggies along with us in flight.  We were told that guinea pigs were considered exotic animals.  Initially, we thought "Well, of course."  Then we were informed that transporting exotics was a bit more expensive than non-exotics.  I may have tried to persuade the airlines that our exotic pets were of the domesticated variety, but that didn't work.  I may have told them that if it would help, we could get our piggies to purr like cats and bark like dogs, but that didn't help either.  No ifs, ands, or buts, from the airline's perspective, we were travelling with exotics.

We also initially discovered that we could actually take our piggies onboard with us if their carrying cases fit under the seats (if I recall correctly, they were not allowed to be placed in the overhead compartments).  That was easy, until we discovered that the maximum number of pets per passenger was two.  The math just didn't work out for us.  We had one too many piggies (how can anyone have one too many piggies?).  The airlines would not stretch their rule to allow us 2.5 pets per passenger, for just one flight, no matter how desperately we pleaded.  Instead, they offered to sell us an additional seat on the flight, which, I believe, we actually considered.

Our next option was having them loaded in with cargo.  For this, we were limited to flights having climate control cargo areas.  That turned out not to be a problem for us flying into Philadelphia.  We just had to make sure they had enough food for the entire flight.  Again, not a problem, as long as they didn't eat it all within the first five minutes of the flight.

We ended up going to the pet store, trying our best to avoid the guinea pig offers, to purchase an oversized crate of a pet carrying case.  I may be overemphasizing here, but I believe that carrying case could have held a small Shetland pony.  I believe we could have put fifty guinea pigs in that thing and still have room for more.  Luckily, they didn't have fifty guinea pigs on offer or we may have just tried to prove our hypothesis.  I think we also purchased an extra water bottle, hard food, and enough bedding material to fill that case almost completely.

Prior to the flight, we packed the food in the carrying case, hooked up the water bottles, packed it with the bedding material and transferred our piggies from their pens into the carrying case.  They immediately buried themselves out of sight in the bedding material while ecstatically whooping and cooing in delight.  They certainly loved it, but we were concerned.

Guinea Pigs are frail animals and can easily succumb to stress.  We learned this when we had P(2) neutered.  We were worried that they might not survive the flight, but there was nothing we could do about it now.  We had a flight to catch.

People at the airport took notice of our large pet carrying case and wondered what was in there since they couldn't see anything through the bars except bedding material.  To those who inquired, they thought it was so cool when we told them we were taking our five little Guinea Pigs to Pennsylvania, but were disheartened that they couldn't see any of them.  Our little piggies were content with remaining burrowed in their temporary home.

If I recall correctly, the flight was enjoyable.  We tried not to worry excessively about our five little piggies and wondered what it was going to be like in Pennsylvania.  When we retrieved their carrying case from the carousel, we looked in, spoke to them, and more than likely crinkled a bag to see if we could get any response.  Thank God!  They all survived the flight.

We were so very relieved and happy.  That was the longest journey our little piggies had been on with us.  You and I though made a few long journeys together.  I certainly miss my travelling companion.  I miss you so very much, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

It has been almost two years since you left and I am now having to decide whether to continue using soft or bar hand soap.  I grew up on bar soap, but don't mind using the soft soap.  We used to have both types of soap in the house early in our marriage, but the bar soap was eventually phased out by the soft soap.  Do I honor your practice of keeping soft soap in the house or do I revert to my pre-marital lifestyle with bar soap?
 
Though it may seem insignificant to most, I was glad I didn't have to make this decision until now and still wish I didn't have to deal with it.  Decisions are a part of everyday life, but on a grief journey, they can become tortuous and somewhat overbearing.  I've already been swept away by a torrential current.  These supposedly insignificant choices just muddy the water that much more.

After forgetting to look at the hand soap selection on a few trips to the grocery store, I finally remembered - while I was in the store.  I journeyed to the hand soap selection to view a wide selection of different brands and flavors.  After locating the most cost effective/inexpensive brand of each type, bar and soft, I was surprised to discover that the soft soap won out - the bucket size container used for refilling empty pump canisters.  I thought that the bar soap would have been the cheaper way to go.  The easy part of the selection was now complete. I then had to determine which flavor was most appropriate for those who would be using it - only me.

Decisions, decisions, decisions - Was I a Shea Butter, Lavender Floral, or Tropical Coconut type of guy?  I found none of these aromas appealing.  Where were the selections of BBQ Grill Master, Fisherman's Catch, Machine Shop, Wood Chips, or Sports Car Exhaust Fumes scented soaps?  They just didn't seem to exist, in either the soft soap or the bar soap options.  After what seemed like eternity, minus a day or two, I decided to go with what I considered the most neutral flavor available, Fresh Water.  I certainly hope it isn't too overpowering.

If only you were here, I wouldn't have to subject myself to these mind boggling decisions.  If I failed in the past, please forgive me.  But thank you so very much for braving the aisles and making the necessary decisions to ensure our household products were purchased and maintained in the most efficient and effective way possible.  You would be happy to know that I still have soft soap in the house.  Although it may not be your scent of choice, I believe Fresh Water scented soft soap is far better than, let's say, Swamp Water scented soft soap.

I miss you and love you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

While visiting a grieving friend this evening, we got into a conversation about different types of food we've eaten and somehow talked about the not so pleasant experiences we have had with food.  I couldn't help but recall the one visit we made to one of our favorite restaurants in Houston.

Remember that vegetarian Asian buffet, located near my workplace, where we loved to dine?  I believe I began going there with my coworkers and immediately let you know that you had to try it.  Thankfully, it was near a theatre and a grocery store we used to frequent.  The first time we dined there together, we agreed that this was certainly a restaurant we would frequent.  I don't recall if it was the one restaurant we frequented the most there in Houston, but I'm sure it was close to the top of our list of enjoyable dining places.

Although it was a vegetarian restaurant, they made a number of their dishes look as if they were made with meat.  I personally didn't understand this concept.  Why would vegetarians want to eat anything that resembled meat?  Why would a carnivore want to eat something that looked like meat, but didn't taste like it?

I simply sampled a small portion of everything, paying little to no attention at its appearance.  Then I would go back for those items I found much more enjoyable than the other items.  There was this one stalk-like vegetable, cut into small pieces that I thought had a weird taste when sampled on its own.  Since it was located in the salad bar area, I found that it was halfway decent when mixed with my salad.

On one of our visits, I managed to persuade you to try some of this weird tasting vegetable.  Although reluctant to do so, you put a little in your mouth and immediately spit it back onto your plate.  I thought that this was absolutely hilarious and couldn't help but bust out in laughter.  That, I believe, was the only time I had ever seen you spit food out of your mouth.  It was immediate!  No sooner did that sample enter your mouth when out it came.  It may have even exited your mouth before your fork did.  I apologize, but I'm in tears laughing as I think about it now.

You were not very happy with me at this moment in time.  You thought that I did this on purpose.  It certainly didn't help that I was in tears and rolling in laughter at the situation.  But I did not know you were going to react the way you did and I also had let you know that I thought it was weird tasting and that I had to mix it with my salad for it to taste halfway decent.  You found it slimy and horribly disgusting.  You immediately marched right over to one of the workers and asked her what that nasty tasting stuff was.  You then came back to the table to let me know that it was raw seaweed.

I can't recall, but thought I may have asked if seaweed was supposed to be good for you.  You didn't care if it was, you vowed right then and there never to eat that disgusting slimy seaweed ever again.  You were right.  Whenever we visited that restaurant beyond that day, I never saw any raw seaweed on your plate.  I felt the need to hide it under my salad whenever I got some to avoid the chance of you reliving the day you discovered you did not care for raw seaweed.

If I had to give up raw seaweed for the rest of my life to enjoy another minute with you, I certainly would.  I miss my lovely dining companion.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

As I try to capture the time we've shared together, in a somewhat chronological order, I'm amazed at how my mind scatters in all different directions.  My mind has recently jumped back to our college years in Columbus, Ohio.  I'm just reminiscing about some of the wonderful times we shared.

Remember all the hiking we did in the nearby parks?  Although a little farther away, Hocking Hills comes to mind.  That park had a lovely trail following a creek, or river, with rock faces throughout the park.  Whenever we went hiking or just trail walking, we usually brought something to eat (be it sandwiches, snacks, or canned goods) and spent a little time enjoying a lovely 'picnic' together. 

Remember how we used to like to play putt-putt together (all but that one hole)?  You know which hole I'm talking about.  Every putt-putt course seems to have one - the one that always tried my patience, and often succeeded.  I would get so frustrated, yet you somehow always managed to calm and comfort me.  There are certainly days where I miss having you here for that.

Remember all those hike and bike trails we used to jog in preparation for the various races we were planning to run.  It didn't matter if it was hot or cold, wet or dry; we always found time to pound the pavement.

Remember "Shakespeare in the Park" and "Picnic with the Pops?"  "Shakespeare in the Park" was a performance done during the summer in the park in or near Germantown.  A local tour group would perform for free, I guess, for practice for their upcoming performance(s).  We would either head there early enough to enjoy a meal at Schmidt's - a German Smorgasbord (Yummy!) or take a picnic basket and have a meal prior to the performance in the park.

"Picnic with the Pops" was typically a theme-based performance by a small orchestra at the park next to the Olentangy River in walking distance to where we lived in the married student housing.  We would take a beach towel to sit on and simply enjoy the performance and watch the stars come out as evening set in.

There were many more activities I know we enjoyed, but my eyelids are getting heavy and I'm rather exhausted (still).  Somehow, in the midst of all these wonderful activities we managed to complete our homework assignments, study for exams, and eventually graduate together with our Master's Degrees.

I love you and miss you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Happy Anniversary sweetheart!  Instead of being our 22nd year together, it's my second one without you.  From my perspective, it still sucks!

I will admit I've been keeping myself exhaustingly busy throughout the week and almost forgot about our day.  It was Wednesday when something triggered my mind to realize that our anniversary was just a few days away.  A moment of silence befell me as I first dreaded the coming day, felt that tinge of pain, and became teary-eyed as I realized how much I still love and miss you.

That evening, I went to Wednesday night dinner at church and enjoyed a Babe's chicken meal with some friends from the church.  I ran into a great friend and past coworker who I hadn't seen in awhile.  It was great talking with her.  I also met this fabulous family, both parents were Navy veterans and he too had a desire to get an RV and travel around the country.  I certainly hope I see them again sometime soon.

Just as I was updating another friend on my marital status (the journey of a widower), the announcer asked the crowd if anyone was having an anniversary this week.  I almost raised my hand, but retracted.  Others who had raised their hands were asked how long they have been married.  How should I respond to this question?  "This would have been our 22nd year together if only she were still here.  Instead, it's my second year without her."  How does the audience respond to this?  Do they applaud as if they are naturally inclined to, thinking "anniversary" or do they respond with silence, murmurs, apologies, and/or shock?  In either case, I can only sense awkwardness from this perceived situation, so I apply the silence is golden rule and take a moment to reflect on us.

On Thursday, I felt the overwhelming desire to be alone.  Wouldn't you know it; people felt the need to fill my personal space with their presence, whether to talk directly to me or to converse with others in my vicinity.  Please go away! I thought to myself.  What's wrong with this world (and/or me)!

What am I going to do?  I have no clue and no plan.  I love you my dear, but without you here, it just feels like another day.  Almighty God, help me get through this in a way that glorifies your name.

If you are wondering, I survived the day.  Of course, I didn't just want to hang around the house by myself all day, so I went to work.  I was happy to have some good old manual labor to keep me busy for most of the day (it felt good to hit things with a hammer).  I will admit I went into isolation mode at work.  I really didn't want anyone around me and, for the most part, I got my wish.

I attended a meeting this evening to be amongst 'family' and friends; those I feel safe and comfortable with sharing my grief.  It was very therapeutic.  Thank God for truly sympathetic and empathetic friends.

I also spent a little time with M, reading and discussing our grief journeys with each other.  It was also very therapeutic.

Although I found ways to occupy my time on this, our anniversary day, I would prefer to have you here with me, my dear.  I love you and miss you so very much!

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

It started with two, then became four, and eventually reached five.  I don't know if they were learning, trying to teach us, or if we inadvertently conditioned them, but our little piggies certainly let us know when their tiny tummies were aching to be filled, which seemed to me to be constantly.

Our little piggies loved mixed salad, salad greens, and carrots.  They were very finicky when it came to hard food and treats.

Whenever they thought they were going to be fed, especially something they loved, which was always, they would let out these whooping type noises (whoop, whoop, whoop) which, in my opinion, meant "feed me, feed me, feed me" in Guinea Pig lingo.  It was amazing how contagious these noises were.  If one piggy began whooping, everyone immediately joined in.  That's right, if one piggy decided they were hungry, everyone else became hungry as well.

It got to the point that if we rattled a bag, they would whoop, whoop, whoop, all day long until food arrived.  This didn't help if I tried to sneak a bag of chips late at night.  As soon as I tried to open the bag, those little snitches would tell on me.

If it was anything they loved to eat, they went at it like ravenous wolves.  As if it was going to be the last meal they were going to get for a while.  I'm surprised we didn't have five fat piggies lying on their backs afterwards rubbing their tummies saying, "Oh me, oh my, I ate way too much."  Wait, that sounds like me after feasting at an all you can eat buffet.

If we served anything that didn't interest them, they looked at us with those sad piggy eyes as if to say, "What did we do to deserve this?  Don't you love us anymore?"  Oh, they had us wrapped around their little paws.  It didn't take us long to change their moods by bringing out the bag of salad.  Whoop, whoop, whoop!  Feed me, feed me, feed me!  We love you, and the food, yes we do!

We once fed them cabbage.  If I remember right, they certainly loved it.  We soon witnessed piggy gas after that.  It was a very unpleasant experience.  No cabbage after that!  Enough said.

I can't recall for certain, but don't think it took too long for them to start whooping before the bag of salad arrived.  They soon began whooping whenever they heard the refrigerator door open.  That made life a little difficult since we often needed to get something out of the refrigerator and couldn't figure out how to do so quietly enough.

They then began whooping whenever anyone went into the kitchen.  Eventually, they began whooping whenever we came into the house.

At first, we loved to hear our little piggies whooping for their food.  It was so cute, like a very small orchestra.  After a while, it became quite annoying, like a car's alarm being activated and the owner nowhere in sight to silence it.

We couldn't keep feeding them.  Those little piggies would have kept eating to their heart's content.  I could see it now; we would have had five balloon-sized guinea pigs with their unusable little legs sticking out of their sides, until the digested their food.  Then they would be right back at it again.  No, we simply learned to put up with our little piggy alarm clocks.

To be with you and listen to our little piggies whooping for food.  I miss you all so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny

Remember how we used to love to spend time at the bookstore?  We used to spend hours there searching for something that interested us.  This past week, I went to one of the bookstores we used to frequent and I can honestly say it just wasn't the same.

You loved the culinary arts section of the bookstore.  I, on the other hand, used to bounce all over the place searching for that eye-catching book, CD, and/or album.

For this particular visit, I went to pick up a book that I had transferred there from another store.  This book is required for a bible study program I have signed up for at my church.  I also planned on purchasing one of the required Bibles for this study program as well as see if the bookstore carried any audio versions of the Bible that I could purchase for enjoying while driving to wherever I was going.

I will admit it felt odd entering the bookstore without you.  I immediately went to the CD and album section of the bookstore to see if I could locate any CD or audio versions of the Bible.  In the past, I would have spent my life in this section of the store browsing through their entire music selection.

It just wasn't the same, instead of browsing at each individual CD; I quickly glanced over the genres looking for the spiritual/biblical CD selection.  I hesitated at the country music section when I spotted a Johnny Cash CD set that I knew my dad would like.  I just couldn't remember if he had a CD player.  Oh well, I found the spiritual section and came up empty handed.  I noticed some CD titles that I immediately recognized as not being spiritual.  I thought it odd that the comedy CDs were adjacent to the spiritual CD section and that my glance had extended into that section.

On my way to the spiritual section of the bookstore, I passed the culinary arts section.  I paused, glanced in the area, and told myself "Did I really expect to see her here?"  I reminisced about how I used to love watching you read from your stack of books in the culinary arts section before we checked out of the bookstore to head to our next great adventure together - not this time.  Tears started to well up in my eyes as a sense of loneliness overcame me.  I quickly departed for the spiritual section of the store.

In the spiritual section, I found various versions of the Bible that I could use for the Bible study program at my church.  I found a few that interested me, but opted for the one that had larger text and some wonderful colorful maps and pictures.

I also noticed an audio version of the Bible locked in a cabinet in the spiritual section of the bookstore.  Although it had an all-star cast of readers, the cost was a bit steep and it was not of an approved version of the Bible.

As I approached the checkout counter, there was a long line of people.  I didn't want to wait in line and still had more time to spare, so I journeyed into the clearance section of the store.  Normally, I would spend hours in this section reviewing each of the books to see if any interested me.  It just wasn't the same.  As I began scanning book titles, I started wondering why I was there.  I knew I wasn't going to purchase any of these books, so why am I wasting time?  I realized I'm not the same as I used to be - I've changed.

I reluctantly continued scanning the books in the clearance section when I came upon a book about the history of Britcoms.  "Oh nice!" in the famed words from Onslow from "Keeping Up Appearances" I instinctively thought to myself.  I couldn't help myself; I picked up the book and started to look through it.  I began to reminisce about all the Britcoms that we enjoyed watching together and felt the tears forming again.  I placed the book back on the shelf and looked up to see Bill Bryson's "A Walk In the Woods."  Aaaaah!  That was the first book you had me read of his to get me hooked on his works.  I couldn't risk soaking books in the clearance section of the bookstore with my tears, so I promptly made my way to the checkout counter.

Luckily, the long line of people had since vanished.  The cashier retrieved the book I had transferred there; I purchased my books, and successfully made it to my car with a sigh of relief and a few wonderfully bittersweet memories.

Somehow, I knew that going to the bookstore wasn't going to be the same.  I was right.  It was so much different.  It was in no way as pleasing as times past.  My desire to hang out at bookstores no longer exists.  I have certainly changed.

I survived it though.  Although a sense of loneliness came over me, I know that I am not alone.  I'll be fine.  Thank you God!

I still miss you and love you so very much.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I can't recall when we first went there, but remember how we enjoyed eating at Los Gallitos when we lived in Houston?  If I recall correctly, at that time, they were known for their seafood enchiladas.  I not only enjoyed them, but also remember enjoying their Chimichangas, Chicken Quesadillas, and other delicious entrees.  We would schedule our visits in between peak meal times so that there was hardly any wait to get seated.

Once when your parents visited, we took them there for a meal.  How you all enjoyed their Margaritas, each served in an oversized glass, or what I liked to call a small sized birdbath.  Although I like Mexican and Tex-Mex food, I never was a fan of Margaritas.  I either had a beer, a daiquiri, or just stuck with water that day.  One Margarita at that restaurant was enough for each of you.  If I recall, your dad mentioned that he felt like he was going to lose his legs after that one drink.

We had a great time feasting and visiting with family that day.  We always had a delightful time enjoying a meal there together.  How I miss enjoying our meals together, my love.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

When were we ever going to learn?  Another day shopping at the pet store for our four little piggies: G, P, P(2), and F, so we thought.  Remember how we couldn't help but go see the Guinea Pigs that they had for sale.  In the female pen, we noticed this cute one sitting by herself all alone in the corner.  We just couldn't resist.  We felt we had to rescue this shy lonely outcast from the cold dungeon where she was.

We checked to ensure she was a female Guinea Pig then took her to her new home.  As usual, we isolated PB from the other four piggies for about a week, in a separate pen.  I can't recall anything being amiss that week, so we let PB join the others.  That was when we realized we had a problem.

What we thought was a shy lonely outcast of a Guinea Pig turned out to be a total tyrant.  PB absolutely terrorized the other piggies.  It did not matter that she was the new kid in town; she was setting the record straight that she was not going to take anything from anybody.  She had a BAD ATTITUDE!  I personally think she may have had some wild boar in her blood, but I was too afraid to have her tested.

It was so bad initially that we considered returning her to the pet store.  I don't know why we decided to keep her, but after some time and tender loving care, she calmed down and there was peace in our household once again.

It was now you and I with our five little piggies.  How I miss you all so very much.

Love,
Coy